Seafoam Reconciliation
by lyrisca
Summary: Bill Scully does his best to protect his little sister, but ends up being the bearer of bad news.


The salty sea breeze tossed golden pinpricks of sand against the heavily starched creases of Bill Scully's pants as he walked with Tara to their dinner destination. They had agreed upon a fairly casual restaurant, one of their favorites near the beach that served authentic Mexican dishes with a splash of seafood here and there, but Bill couldn't bring himself to wear jeans, no matter how much Tara teased him. The harsh, angular features of naval wear had worked their way into his civilian wardrobe, and he enjoyed breaking in the crisp newness of the fabric.

San Diego in general was a bit too casual and easygoing for Bill, who was used to a life of organized formalities. He also hated the palm trees that had spread like weeds in the arid climate and attempted to cheapen the good-natured heart of the city with their pretentious, commercialized symbolism. But because San Diego had become his home, he did his best to ignore the minor annoyances and focus on the good things: excellent weather, home to the largest naval fleet in the world, great food, and a perfect place to raise children.

His child, thankfully, was spending an evening with his grandmother, who had flown in a few days before to spend a week with the family. He had tried to convince Charlie and Dana to come, as well, but Charlie was busy doing whatever crazy new thing was on his plate, and Dana... her response had been curt, but Bill could see that there was something larger going on beneath her clipped words.

Sure enough, his mother had called him a few days later in tears, explaining that Dana had given William up for adoption and asking what was wrong with her, where had everything gone wrong? Bill had been too furious to answer at the time, and looking back, his subsequent call to Dana may have been too harsh. "I had to, Bill," she had told him quietly, her small wavering voice fighting to take the wind out of his. "I couldn't protect him anymore. And no, I couldn't turn to you, or Mom, or Charlie. I couldn't bear to put any of you in the line of fire. William is better off this way."

He just didn't understand. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt that baby or take him away from his mother, especially after everything that she had already been through. Plus, he knew his sister - despite her vulnerabilities and small stature, she could turn into a formidable adversary if need be. And, as he had seen in his experiences with his own wife, a woman with an endangered child was a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

He knew where it all stemmed from - who it all stemmed from. The deadbeat dad himself (or so he assumed) who had, after years of bringing her misery, given Dana the one thing she had always wanted and then left her for the wolves. She had played the protection card with him, too, always defending him, always giving him the benefit of the doubt. Well, his form of protection didn't seem to be doing Dana a hell of a lot of good, considering that she'd had to give up his poorly-timed gift. He wondered if the man even knew, had any idea of the grief he had caused the one person who seemed to be willing to follow him to the ends of the earth for the sake of some ridiculous crusade.

"What's on your mind?" Tara asked him, pulling him from his dark thoughts. They had reached the restaurant's weathered front doors, and he grabbed the gilded knob with one hand, keeping the other around his wife's waist.

"I was thinking about my sister, and her lunatic boyfriend," he grumbled, wishing suddenly that the man were here so he could punch him. It would be pointless, but he would enjoy it.

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Always the protector. Bill, have you ever considered that maybe you don't know the whole story? That maybe there are factors you can't understand?"

Bill hated it when she suggested that he didn't understand something. It made him feel like a child. "I can't imagine what would drive a person to do the things that Dana has done. That he has done to her."

"Well, maybe that's because you aren't either of them." Encircling her arm in his, she addressed the hostess. "Table for two, please. Outside if you can."

Bill sulked a bit as the hostess led them to their table. Tara fit in well with the women of the Scully family - she was strong, opinionated, and not at all afraid to express her feelings with vigor. It was a big part of the reason he had fallen in love with her, had married her and made children with her. But sometimes, it felt a little too much like she was somehow channeling Melissa with her gentle rebukes of him and by giving Dana far more sympathy than she deserved. She was an overworked woman with a dangerous, time-consuming job; she never had any business trying to create a child at this time in her life unless she wanted to accept the responsibilities. And it seemed she couldn't even do that. She could never leave the work or the man connected to it behind for something stable and sane.

Once they took their seats, Bill ordered a beer and glanced at the familiar, well-used menu. He always ordered the same dish, but searching the menu for something new was a comfortable habit. "Do you think they'll ever add to this thing? Such a small selection..."

"Small, but perfect." He could feel her looking at him, but instead of meeting her gaze, he stared across the outdoor patio at the nearby coastline. A family of four wandered into a small souvenir stand, and the youngest child began to happily pick up and jostle every fragile item he could find.

"Still thinking about Dana?" Tara inquired gently, touching his hand. He jumped and nearly knocked over his beer, which had apparently already been brought to the table.

"Sorry," he gurgled after taking a deep swig of his drink and settling his hand on top of hers. "I guess I was. I just want her to have some sense of normalcy. She doesn't know what she's missing."

Tara shook her head and tucked a renegade strand of hair behind her ear. "She may never know, Bill. Normalcy scares some people, makes them feel sedentary; they'll keep moving until it kills them. It's not healthy, but it's just what they do." She sipped her drink, a tart chardonnay, delicately, letting the flavor bloom on her tongue before swallowing. "For all her faults, your sister is strong, and smart. She'll know when to stop running."

"I hope you're right." Bill watched the two children skip out of the souvenir shop, large seashells in hand, with their parents following closely behind. They were replaced by a tall fellow, lanky and lean, who had turned to the shop owner to ask a question. Bill couldn't see his face.

Tara changed the conversation topic to that of Bill's mother, and her plans to show the older woman around the city the next day, while Matthew was in school. Bill nodded in agreement, but he found himself distracted by the tall man in the souvenir shop. He seemed familiar somehow...

"Do you see that man, over there? The one in the loud Hawaiian shirt?" Bill pointed discreetly in the general direction of the shop.

Tara nodded. "Sure, I see him. What about him? Do you-" Her words trailed off as the man turned around, and they both finally got a good look at his face.

It was Fox Mulder. The man who was supposed to be in hiding, obviously out in the open, at a stupid souvenir shop in San Diego, wearing an equally stupid t-shirt.

Bill was shaking with anger. He couldn't quite see things in the periphery of his vision; his focus was placed solely on one man.

"Bill?" Tara's voice was tense with worry and warning. "Don't. Leave it alone."

"I'm going to go talk to him." He downed the rest of his beer in a few gulps and stood up. All he could think of was his sister, sad and small and pinched at the edges, her heart turning to stone as she gave this man's child away. And he had the audacity to be here, nestled between a row of gaudy palm trees, in relative paradise. Without her.

Tara had a firm grip on his arm, but he knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop him. She knew it, too, and a small sigh escaped from her lips. "Just don't hurt him. This isn't your problem."

Bill ignored both his wife and the confused waitress walking toward the table, and headed for the door.

* * *

Mulder took a deep breath of sea-laden air, and stretched his arms up toward the sky as he walked. It felt good to be out in the open, even though he knew he had very little time to enjoy it. It was technically a risk to be walking the California coastline, even in the middle of the day, but his informant was meeting him at a public location and he had a half hour to kill.

Despite the beautiful surroundings, the sight of so many families playing on the beach made him feel heartsick and a little guilty. He wondered if William had ever dug his toes into the surf and laughed when the tide splashed against his knees. If he would ever get to see him do it. The idea of being a father terrified him, but the fear of his child growing up fatherless frightened him more. He hated what he was doing to himself and to Scully, but they both knew it had to be done, at least for now.

But he was really beginning to wonder if it was all worth it. It didn't seem like anyone was searching for a renegade g-man with a flair for the paranormal, and the informants he met with either had nothing new to tell him or attempted to betray him. He was beginning to lose interest in his own relentless quest, and he knew it was partly because he had no one to bounce ideas off of. He had told Scully once that she was his touchstone – but it probably would have been more appropriate to call her a lightning rod. He had grown so used to being grounded by her that he didn't know the right way to think without her. It unnerved him to know he was so dependent on her now, but it was also oddly comforting. Nine years ago, he would have considered finding his sister far more likely than ever finding wholeness, or love.

Mulder stopped in front a charmingly campy souvenir shop with gaudy swimming suit covers on the walls and large seashells in baskets near the entrance. Two young boys shot past him as he entered, with two flustered parents in tow. The exuberance in their freckled, spindly limbs made him smile, and he wondered who William would ultimately look like. Tall, dark, and lanky, or short, fiery and freckled? He chuckled at the combination of any of the six attributes. Well, at least the kid wouldn't be ugly.

He stared down at a table cluttered with the ugliest carved statues he had ever seen in various surfing poses. He asked the shopkeeper how much they were, winced a little at the price, and bought two statues that surpassed all the rest in hideousness. Souvenirs for the misses and little one at home, from his ridiculous adventures.

As he turned to leave, he saw a man walking purposely toward him from across the way. He looked supremely pissed, and as he came closer, Mulder understood why.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Shit, shit shit."

How could he have been so _stupid_?

Of _course_ he was going to run into Bill Scully here. He had completely forgotten that he lived in San Diego, but it made some sort of twisted sense to see the man coming toward him with death in his eyes. The odds of running into anyone that knew him anywhere were slim to none, but he was known to defy the odds in a number of categories.

Why hadn't he thought of this? Why hadn't he remembered? If he'd had any way of telling Scully where he was going, she would have warned him. He probably would have come anyway, but at least he could have grown a giant Chasidic Jew beard beforehand and cowered in the corner until the man was gone.

But there he was, coming toward him very quickly, and he knew he was going to have to act fast if he wanted to avoid a public scene. He understood the man and the anger he must be feeling, but the absence of tact could get them both in very big trouble.

Before Bill could catch up to him, Mulder cut through a crowd of people and headed for a sparsely populated section of the beach. He didn't have to look back; he knew Bill would be following him. And as irritated as he knew he was going to get, he couldn't blow the man off. He had a deep level of respect for the Scully family, even if the feeling wasn't necessarily reciprocated.

When Mulder reached his destination and turned around, Bill was right behind him and startlingly close. Mulder took a few steps backward, into the surf, and watched as Bill attempted to master his anger. _Good_, he thought grimly. _At least he's not going to punch me_.

"What are _you_ doing _here_?" Bill finally asked, annunciating the important words with his anger. His accusing glare seemed to bore into Mulder's head. He felt a headache coming on.

"I can't tell you why I'm here, Bill, but I promise you it's not for a luxury cruise." Mulder immediately regretted any attempt at humor. Had Scully been here, she would have kicked him sharply in the shin with a height-enhancing, three-and-a-half-inch heel.

Bill had an awful look on his face. "Still searching for the truth, Fox? What kind of person are you, to leave my sister to get trampled on while you chase your aliens?"

Mulder sighed. He was trying very hard to not be angry with a man who could only see the surface of things. "There are people after me, after William. I'm searching because it's the only way I can protect him." A small, sneering voice in the back of his head told him he was wrong, he was lying, and Bill confirmed his fears.

"The only way? Don't you think you could have protected him better by being a real father? How can you protect a child by leaving him and his mother alone? Do you know the hell she's going through for you?" His chest heaved a little as he spoke. "Do you know what she's sacrificed?"

"I know better than anyone, Bill. I know you can't understand that, but… I'm doing the only thing I know how to do." _Too bad you're not doing it very well_, whispered the voice.

Part of the reason he had always hated being confronted by Bill Scully was the fact that he always spoke in half-truths. There were great gaps in his knowledge of what was going on, but the terrible things he did know gave him the ammo he needed to rip Mulder's heart and willpower into shreds. And that secret voice in the shadows always told him he deserved it.

"Well, it's too late now. Neither of you could accept the responsibility of your actions or give up your fruitless searches. I just hope it's been worth it." Bill let out a small sigh of his own. Obviously, destroying Fox Mulder was a cathartic experience for him.

_Wait a second…_ Mulder thought about the things Bill had said, and realized something didn't make sense. "Hold on. You spoke of William in the past tense. Has something happened?" He could hear the panic laced up in his words, and he hated it.

Bill's ire seemed to falter with Mulder's question. He looked hesitant. "You have to know." He looked desperate, like he had something horrible to say but didn't want to be the bearer of bad news.

"What's wrong?" Mulder felt the knots tightening painfully in his stomach. "Are they okay?"

"I can't believe you don't know," Bill suddenly looked tired, heavy with the weight of his own words. "Don't you have any contact with her at all? Have you really been torturing her like this?" His eyes flickered a bit as he spoke the words, dug the barbs deep in Mulder's skin. "She had to give him up for adoption. He's not hers anymore. Or yours. She said she couldn't protect him."

Mulder felt the world tilt a few degrees to the left, and he realized he could no longer stand. He fell to his knees in the wet sand and watched his son play in the surf in his mind's eye over and over. _He's not hers anymore. Or yours_. He wanted to drown himself in the shallow water.

For once, Bill didn't say a word, but his features were stiff and his eyes were cold. Mulder didn't know whether to thank him for telling him plainly or kill him for enjoying it so much. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he stuck them in the sand. A shell settled on his buried palm as the tide came in, and he shivered when the cold Pacific water washed over his lower body.

"It's my fault," he whispered, his voice husky and barely audible over the gentle crash of seawater. "All of it. I've hurt her so much…"

"Oh, it's not all your fault," Bill said, his gaze still chilly. "She made a decision a long time ago to stick with you, against all odds. She's never known how to say no to you."

In spite of it all, Mulder managed a soft, incredulous laugh. He felt some of his sanity go out with it. He cocked his head sideways to look Bill in the eye. "Has anyone ever told you that you have absolutely no tact?"

Bill looked genuinely surprised. Mulder wanted to laugh until he sobbed.

Instead, he struggled to his feet and began to walk. The sand between his toes was grainy and painful, but he didn't stop to wipe it away.

"Where are you going?" Bill yelled after him. He sounded frustrated, but his anger had deflated like a fallen war zeppelin. Mulder tried to draw some satisfaction from the defeat, but it wasn't in him.

"Home" was all he called back.

* * *

Bill came back to the table and was surprised to see that the food had already been brought to the table. He couldn't even remember ordering it.

"I ordered for you," Tara explained, taking a bite of some grilled fish he didn't recognize. "How did it go?"

"I've lost my appetite," he mumbled, not sitting down.

Tara stopped chewing and gave him a look. "What did you do?"

"He didn't know." Bill looked down at the ground, not meeting her eyes. "I think… that maybe you were right. And I think that I should go."

"Should I call Dana? What's happened?" Tara was on her feet now, hailing their waitress. "Can we get this to go, please? And the check?"

"I can't face her demons for her anymore," Bill said quietly. He looked old and hard, a young phantom of his late father.

Without another word, he walked out the door and headed home alone.


End file.
